“As you’ll notice by the postmark of this letter, I am in Washington, D. C., at present. And what do you think? I have met Benny Bartlett here!
“I can hear you gasp when you read that. I knew him, but he didn’t know me, so I made up my mind to have some fun with him. I picked up an acquaintance with him, and told him I was from West Point. Then he got intimate and confidential, said he knew a confounded fresh plebe up there—Mallory, they called him. Well, I said I’d heard of Mallory. And, Mark, I nearly had him wild.
“In the first place, you know, he hates you like poison. I can’t tell you how much. This paper wouldn’t hold all the names he called you. And, oh, what lies he did tell about you! So I thought to tease him I’d take the other tack. I told him of all your heroism, how you’d saved the life of the daughter of a rich old judge up there, and were engaged to marry her some day. I threw that in for good measure, though they say it is a desperate case between you and her—upon which I congratulate you, for she’s a treasure.”
“I wonder what he’d say,” put in one of the six, “if he knew she’d joined the Banded Seven to help fool the yearlings?”
“I told him,” continued Mark, reading, “all about how you’d prevented hazing and were literally running the place. Then I showed him Fischer’s letter to cap the climax. And, Mark, the kid was crazy. He vowed he was coming up there to balk you, if it was the last thing he ever did on earth.
“His father has a big pull with the President, and is using it with a vengeance. He pleads that his son did magnificently at the congressman’s exams, and only failed at the others because he was ill. And so Benny expects to turn up to annoy you as one of the plebes who come in when camp breaks up on the 28th of August.
“Having warned you of this disagreeable possibility nothing now remains for me to do but wish you the best possible luck in your quarrel with the first class, and so sign myself,
“Sincerely yours,
“Wicks Merritt.”
The Seven stared at each other as Mark folded up the letter.
“Fellows,” said he, “we’ve got just one month to wait, just one month. Then that contemptible fellow will be here to bother us. But in the meantime I say we forget about him. He’s unpleasant to think about. Let’s not mention him again until we see him.”